


Master of Mort

by JLPierre



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, F/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9225527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLPierre/pseuds/JLPierre
Summary: Alternative universe fic involving Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy.Hermione finds herself involved with a man who will stop at nothing to get what he desired, wishing to leave she finds herself embroiled in a love triangle that is both deadly and dangerous.





	

 

* * *

**Hermione –** **_July 2000_**

* * *

She hated him - or wished to at least.

His tongue making her forget her hatred, his fingers pushing into her lower back as she tried to find a reason to fight this, to fight him.

He was the opposite of what she wanted; he was selfish, feral and cruel. But in this place, with these hands and lips and not so innocent touches, he was perfect.

She'd never have thought she'd be a girl who liked her hair being tugged as a pair of lips smothered hers, her own fingers gently holding the head close to her, to not let go. She had never expected to like a hand skating up against her thighs before ripping the fabric between them without caution.

He was all she didn't want but her body felt opposite.

The way he ground her down was embarrassing, but he never allowed her to wallow in that moment for too long. Gently pulling her back to the present, to his silver orbs and the admirable way he undressed her before removing an item of clothing. It was that, very unusual way that he looked at her that made her not feel so bad about what she was doing.

The immediate disbandment of their clothes flying off just as quickly even with how wrong this was. That she was willingly sleeping with him, through no trickery or lies.

"Beautiful _as always._ " His voice silky as her hairs stood on end along her skin.

She wanted him.

"Come for me, scream for me, sweetheart ."

She needed him, this, them.With each thrust, each moan, each _right there._ Each  _don't stop._ Her anger and contempt for him faded until she was as mellow and jelly like as her legs felt.

* * *

  **Hermione –** ** _July 2000_**

* * *

She felt as though she had been punched in her gut, her eyes cast over the clean hands that had only hours ago been holding her on top of him. They shouldn't be clean, they should be red, tainted.

She felt sick.

Sweat building on her forehead as she was unsure how to remove herself from the situation.

Sliding over the mattress, bracing every now and again so that he didn't wake from her movements. Raising herself from the bed as she crept across the dorm. Thankful that the curtains were drawn on all the others beds.

It had been like the Great Escape, only releasing her caught up breath when she pressed her weight against the chaise in the common room. Her hands cupping her face, her thoughts all conflicted. 

"You ok?"

Her entire frame paralysed, slowly dropping her hands. His tousled dark locks at all different angles.

"Can you hear me?"

"I can hear you," she said dryly.

His brows raised, his hands out at his sides, her eyes gazing down to the floor to avoid his, "you want to explain why you're down here."

"Tom..."

His hand rubbed his face, "what is it?" His tone was harsh and impatient but his hand had reached out to graze her shoulder.

"I know," she whispered, attempting to shrug him off.

"What are you talking about?"

His hand holding her shoulder as she glared up at him, eyes scanning his pale skin, so expressionless, cold almost.

"I _know."_

His dark, ice eyes softly widened as reality hit home to him, that she had figured it out.

"I know that you killed _him_."

* * *

  **Tom Riddle - July 2000**

* * *

She was one to smile that enigmatic way, casting a lot of doubt over his usual reading. He found the best way to describe her was equivocal; her demeanour changed so often he found it was the easiest way.

All he knew was she was an addiction. Entrancing. Captivating. Strong moral fibre ran through her, it was an annoying trait but he knew it would diminish.

He felt as though he was under a spell when he was with her, wanting more after each taking.

He had an inclination that she felt similar, although he knew she wasn't likely to admit it. But then nor was he. The two in a constant battle for dominance whilst holding all their cards close to their chest.

Shrouded in mystery and secrecy, their meetings surreptitious from watchful eyes. He found that it only added to the need for her, the hunger he felt on the days that he didn't see her. Her clothes melting from her frame at his touch, his mouth mapping out her body as he held her close, listening to the groans and moans he craved so abundantly.

Her porcelain back arching as he stroked her pleasure from her, his own never far off before they would crumble down into the mattress. Breathing hitched and desperation met.

No words would be said, although he thought far too many. She'd dress without a hint of question, fixing her curly hair in the mirror as glances were met, the same thoughts running through her mind that were always left unspoken. He had never been this lustful with any other, his interests in females had been next to none but then she had looked at him, all innocent and interesting, her naïve nature intriguing him.

A hesitation, a questionable look was present now. The two in her room, away from watchful eyes, the smell of their sex still on them from earlier. Her anger was radiating from her frame, her hands were trembling and he had never found her more enchanting.

"Why did you, why did you even start this..." her voice cracking as he looked at her tear filled eyes. "Why did you make me fall in love with you, only, only to rip me apart at the last moment?"

A simple question she must have thought, one she never got an answer to. The question simmered in the air between them, his darkened eyes taking her all in but not altering in their blankness.

"Why do you ruin everything that you touch?"

He looked down, his palm running over his own face as he watched her eyes turn to hate, a fire of anger flooding over his skin as he felt it prickle his nerves.

"I've lied for you. I've been dishonest to people I care about, people I _love!_ I've protected you —"

"— You do not understand —"

"Get out —"

"— You're being unreasonable —"

"— I said," her arms shoving him backwards, his back near colliding with the cold stone wall. "Get out. Get out, _Get Out_!"

He rubbed the place on his arm that had made contact with the wall, meeting her cold expression that attempted to hide the broken, ruined look within them.

"Listen —"

"— I never," she interrupted as her finger hovered an inch from his nose, "want you to speak to me again."

With a handful of his jumper, she shoved him out of the door that she had flung open. He didn't fight it, turning at the last minute to see her slam her bedroom door behind him. An eruption of cries from the other side as he closed his eyes, his hand hovering over the wooden door he had often pressed her against.

"I had to," he whispered, only wishing she'd hear him. "But I had to do it. For the safety of our family."

His hand grazing over the wooden door, feeling each etch and scratch of the wood as he heard a pause in her sobs.

"You have _no_ family _Tom_."

* * *

  **Draco Malfoy -** **_November 2000_ **

* * *

The cheap scent of perfume flooded his nostrils before his eyes met the dim lighting that showered the place with ambience. It was a dump by any other name but it still served alcohol. He immediately met a pair of ice filled eyes from across the bar, her wiry, brunette hair coiled in curls, her black dress low cut and revealed more than she should be in a place like this. It felt like an eternity that they were connected before her eyes looked down to her drink. 

The commotion behind him brought him back to the present as he felt a clap of someone's hand on his back, loud raucous laughter from another's mouth before he was surrounded by those he had been at the warehouse with. He took one last look at the female who was busy admiring someone at a table, moving his eyes to the choice of drink he so desperately wanted.

"Off. Limits."

Draco turned to look at the dark skinned male beside him, his smile broad and could be mistaken for a sneer. Blaise, his partner that day looked at where his eyes had been as if explaining his comment.

" _She_ , is off limits. I know you are new around here but, na-uh."

"Who?"

Taking a drink from the bar as his former smile morphed into a smirk, "I shall say only this... that girl, is dangerous. And, she is one of us. She is _family_

_'No she can't be,'_ he thought to himself. She was far too pure and beautiful to be associating with low-level criminals. He met Blaise's eyes as he nodded in assurance of what he had said, but he was still unsure whether to believe him.

"Boss's girl," he continued. "Well, before the Boss was Boss. But still, _Boss's girl_. Off limits."

Draco frowned before retrieving a drink that had appeared near him, unsure if it was even what he ordered, but he needed something to quench his drying throat.

"If he is capable of love, or even feelings. He had them for her, Prince and princess. Happy, devoted they were," Blaise's head shaking before laughing.

"What changed?"

"Hierarchy," Blaise answered. "You know this business, kill or _be killed_."

The words hung in the air around him for the remainder of the night. He watched her carefully, the way her body moved around the room, the reaction that Theo had to her presence in the room. Most of all he noticed the occasional dark, lingering stare from the Boss's eye in the corner. He noticed over the course of the evening that he was always watching her, each smile making his jaw tense and each roll of her eyes would cause him to adjust in his seat. It struck him as odd, this straight laced and tense man had a weak spot and made it so obvious. He made a mental note to remember this when he awoke from his alcohol-induced hangover.

Questions arose as quickly as others were answered. It seemed that he had signed up for more than he had originally thought and strangely it didn't worry him as much as it should.

* * *

**Draco Malfoy - December 2000**

* * *

He opened his bedroom door to her stood at the foot of his bed, eyes glazed over from the bottle of wine in her hand. Draco liked to think he was an observant man, but clearly he had missed her making her excuse from the party downstairs of the Manor. The strap of her black dress had slipped down, her lips looking fuller than normal and her chest rising and falling rapidly from being caught. Draco's hand moved to close the door behind him but his eyes never left her.

"What are you —" he began to ask.

"— You like to watch me dance," a statement more than a question, the bottle in her hand being rested on the floor beside her. She slipped her feet from her shoes, her fair curls falling to her chest as her breasts looked set to pop out from her dress. "So sit... _watch_."

Her hands held up the silk dress, exposing the lace underwear concealing her as she turned to face the large ornate mirror behind her. Out of surprise he fell into the chair close to him. The dangerously darkened eyes she was sporting met his through the mirror, her frame swaying to the beat of the thumping music rooms away. He placed the glass on the small table beside him, her dress dropping to its former place, hiding the top of her thighs and sculpted rear he wanted to touch. Her hair fell down so it trailed down her body on one side. Her eyes never leaving him, running her hands up the side of her breasts to her neck before her nails and fingers got lost in her tresses. 

Closing her eyes, his tongue wet his drying lips, her hands cupping all of her hair high above her head as her sweet, long neck was exposed to him.

He couldn't resist for much longer, not as her hair dropped down her back, her lashes flicking up as her hands skated over the thin straps of her dress. Standing up from the armchair, moving across to her in three lunges, pushing her frame into the mirror as he yanked the straps down exposing her perky breasts.

He felt her body arch into his, their eyes meeting, washing him in amber and brown, turning her in his arms to face him. His thumb reaching to pull down softly on her lip before his lips crashed into hers.

Their bodies danced like flames with one another, frantic, sudden movements that were needed and desired. He tugged at her dress that had clung to her shapely waist before it fell to her feet. His hands moving down her petite frame until they rested on the curve he had admired for so long. His tongue running over the outline of her lips as he felt her shudder in his hold.

He felt her arch in his hands, his lips moving to her neck before meeting her breast. His hand skating over her rear until it met the back of her thighs, pulling her up around his waist as he crashed her back into the mirror earning him a primal noise.

"I want you," he whispered seductively.

"And I, you," she purred back. 

The thudding of the music, the taste of the whiskey on her lips and the low lighting only enhanced their hurried movements. Dropping her roughly on the unmade bed, climbing in between her legs, peeling the lace from between her as he raked his nails over her inner thighs. He hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as her legs wrapped around him as he gave her what she most desired.

With each bite of his lower lip he thrust into harder, her walls tensing around him as he felt himself harden at the image of her in his bed. Her hair sprayed over his perfectly white pillowcases, her hands leaving distinctive marks down his back and as she wrapped herself in him, he didn't want to ever let her leave. Coaxing and pushing for more with each movement, his name on her swollen lips was more than he could handle. All caution had been thrown truly into the wind and as his teeth sunk into her exposed neck, he didn't care.

He had wanted her and he didn't care for rules.

Not this time.

* * *

**Draco Malfoy - December 2000**

* * *

 

Awaking somewhat disorientated, a blaring headache as he opened one eyes and saw the naked woman beside him. Panic immediately hit him, quickly followed by worry as he stared at her peaceful face. The curves of her backbones, the rise of her spine to her rear and he couldn't help but admire what wasn't covered with the thin sheet. Memories of the night before coming back to him, his eyes meeting the mirror that had prints and smears on from their time together.

He sat up, took one last look at her peaceful state before standing up, heading into the bathroom. The cold water splashed on his face and the image that met him in the mirror frightened him more than he cared to admit.

_When had I become this... a taker._

His death was going to be imminent if he didn't find a way out of this.

" _She's just off limits, he doesn't want her but wants no one else to either," Blaise voice sounded from memories._

_"Why does she stick around?"_

_"She's got no where else to go I suppose, none of us do."_

It was like pieces of a puzzle, the tense arguments, the lingering stares and he wondered if he had just entered the game blind. His fist lashed out before he had a chance to stop it, connecting with the bathroom mirror as shards of glass sliced his skin before falling to the porcelain basin with a crack.

He was meant to blend in, be inconspicuous and not draw all the attention to himself.

His eyes stared into the one shard that remained, catching the furious amber eyes from his bed.

And then she was gone with a slam of his bedroom door, only fingerprints on the mirror left behind.

* * *

**Draco Malfoy - February 2001**

* * *

He had walked around the corner of the Manor, distinctive whispers meeting him as he paused his loud steps. Silence greeting him as he held his breath, _they knew he was here,_ whoever they were.

"— No one is there," a voice spat.

Draco taking heed, moving closer in his determination to hear the house's secrets. He was often left out of the past but it was on every other man's mind but all too afraid to repeat it all.

"I'm leaving," the voice said and he knew this time whose voice it was.

"You, are _not."_

"I think, _you_ are forgetting who you are speaking to _Riddle_."

Draco's mouth gaped, his hand clutching his mouth suddenly to retrieve the loud gasp and breathing he was emitting.

"I think you are forgetting who owns you, Hermione."

Her laugh that responded was rich, mocking and full of darkness, hatred and anger. He imagined it leaving her dark brown lips, the way her curls danced around her face as she threw her head back.

"You find this situation humorous."

"I find your desperate plea at warning me humorous. You, do not own me. Not anymore."

He heard a thump of something against wood and he wondered if the boss's fist had lashed out.

"Scared, _sweetheart_?"

"Of you?" She responded. "Never, maybe in a weak time, where I was blinded by lust and maybe even love. You emitted danger and power like no one else, but now... you are nothing to me. Dead, even."

Draco heard the rustling of clothes, grunts from her and a low scream that seemed muffled.

"Let me make one thing clear," he heard the boss say, shadows cast against the wall opposite him of what looked like he was holding her. Hand over her lips. "You, are mine. Whether you want to stand by me or not, I _own you_."

His heart was going faster than ever, all set to burst out of his chest and coat the wall in his blood. His hand had reached for the gun in the back of his trousers, a protective urge surging through him as he tried to remain level headed. The taller shadow moved, her head turning.

"Over… my, _dead body_."

"It can be arranged," Riddle quipped darkly.

"I would like to see you try," Hermione snarled before heading in his direction far too quickly, her breath ragged.

Draco taking note and making himself scarce, heart hammering with each step back to his room.

* * *

**Draco Malfoy - February 2001**

* * *

 

She had come to him, her silk dressing gown dropping to the floor of her feet as she moved past him into his room. Scooping it up as he slammed the door and he felt himself being forced against it.

Dominant and in need of him, her lips brushed over his. His body failing him as if hardened upon her presence and it wasn't long before he was doing the same dangerous motions with her again, although this time he felt the flames licking at his being at how reckless this was.

He braced for her exit, her immediate shutting down of who she was around him. But she didn't. Her eyes softly lingering on him as he brought the sheet up against her breasts to hide her modesty.

"You aren't a monster," simple and weightless.

"I was," he responded, he lay flat against his own pillow and turned on his side to meet her gaze. Memories of children begging, screams of parents, horrid bullying to others. "A dark one at that."

"I've met, seen and danced with a lot of monsters... you _are not_ a monster."

"I would say that you say that to us all," Draco said softly. "But it seems that is not true."

A smile crept over her lips, her tongue licking at her lips. "It isn't."

"What is it with you and _him_?"

The air became heavier, as if the room knew that it was a dangerous territory and warned him. Her eyes were harsher and more fixed on him, as if she was judging him.

"I would quip that it's not your business, but you are making it yours... sneaking up on people in corridors," his heart slowed at her acknowledgement but his face didn't falter. "He knows what he did, I know what he did. Most people do. But it ended, it is over and he needs to learn that."

"You love him?"

She frowned and he was unsure if it was down to his phrasing, it sounded more like he was telling her than asking.

"I... _did_ , I know I did," Hermione whispered.

"But now?"

She turned her face to meet his, "I'm not even sure I know what love is."

"Who did he kill?"

He saw her eyes simmer, something in them that showed him pain and loss. Something that told him who this person was had left her lonely and broken. Shattered her and made her the hard, resourceful and merciless person she was now. It was even possible to see the woman she was prior to this, a laughing, happy and kind woman.

"He killed someone you loved didn't he?" He pushed, knowing he was close to the truth.

Tears were brimming, "Doesn't he always?"

* * *

**Tom Riddle -** **_May 2001_ **

* * *

He couldn't have her.

Her words slapping him in his chest, her cold, hard eyes were staring into him even if she had long gone. He had stood against the wood of the house for a long time, he replayed their fight and picked up on things he hadn't noticed in the presence.

Her lingering lust that had taken him from his morals once, her passion that was set to destroy him. Her once permanent hate only fluctuating at making its presence known and he missed her, terribly.

She was beautiful. Always.

She was his weakness and he knew that wouldn't change.

He didn't feel bad for his choices, because he had so much more to give and he needed the power to do it.

To kill was better than to be killed.

He was crossed and they had to pay for it.

It was logical, she appreciated logic, she always had.

He clenched his eyes, his fingers rubbing together as if her skin was between them. How he wanted to touch her, coax her name from his lips and watch her hips thrust into his.

A woman had never weakened him, but she was just no ordinary woman and she had broken him. She had attempted to change and morph him, but he was far too gone by this point.

She was maddening as she held this appealing and annoying trait of making him feel stupid and weak. She had once made him laugh like no other had; she had even made him question beliefs and policies. Just for a second

But not now.

It was better this way, safer.

She was _safe._ She would always be _safe._

His _Hermione, would always_ be _safe._

* * *

  **Draco Malfoy -** **_July 2001_ **

* * *

Something about the day was off; the hammering of fists on doors as they collected debts seemed, pointless to him, almost trivial. The beatings of a man who had failed to pay his dues had been rather boring and the quiet drink in the Requirement Room after a busy day was truthfully mundane.

_He_ was there. The Boss. His snake like arm around a half dressed female, his loose black curls perfect as always. His half smile reeking of boredom and spite mixed with a conniving look that made him worry.

Looking at him he knew what had originally interested her. He was handsome, he was vastly intelligent and he was careful. Each word was meticulously thought of before speaking. He stunk of power and he dominated a room the moment he entered it.

He saw the light burst into the darkened bar, the music was low so the sound of her heels was noticeable. The chants of 'hellos' from the others welcomed her, but he didn't turn, his eyes fixed on the Boss as he, like every other time, turned to see her. 

She was his Achilles Heel. He could see it now, clear and bright, wondering how he had never seen it before. The downfall of the whole operation was held between her chest and her knickers.

"Malfoy? Want a drink?" He heard Theo shout. Breaking his visual on the boss he turned to face him, curtly nodding.

He took the drink and looked at the sunken eyes that belong to Theo, his demeanor was off and altered. Following them to her statue at the end of the bar, her face pale and withdrawn. Many questions hammered his mind, but he knew that now was not the time or place.

"She's sad."

Draco frowned, "You seem troubled by this."

"Of course!"

"Why?"

Theo almost choked on his drink, a look on his face of disbelief, "Because she's family."

Draco shrugged simply, because although that word was thrown around a lot, it didn't hold much in their actions. They would kill those who betrayed, they would punish for small mistakes and attempted to make it all ok with a simple 'we are _family_ '.

"I thought we was all family," Draco snarled as he sipped upon the cool, cold liquid in his glass.

"She's my sister okay?" Theo finished. "My actual, hold hands as we went on the swings, kind-of-sister."

Draco's eyes nearly fell out of his head. " _What_?"

"He got her involved in all of this, because he wants what he can't have," Theo's tone was much darker than usual, almost murderous. "I'm meant to protect her, I can't even get through to her."

* * *

  **Tom Riddle –** **_September 2001_ **

* * *

_There was something beautiful about watching someone kill for the first time,_  he thought to himself. _Their hesitant breathing, the shaking of their extended arm_.

Hermione's sunken frame was in front of him; he could see the quiver of fear and doubt in her hands and fingers. But she had brought them here, all of them. Her wishful ways to leave him had failed as expected. The half-brained idiot in front of them that had tricked her, tricked _his girl._

"He's used you," Tom whispered into her ear as he continued to pace behind her. "What would you have done sweetheart, if I had not have stepped in? He wanted to hurt you."

"Don't you all," she growled. He almost wished to compliment her on her fire, but that would have deemed it acceptable.

"You cannot escape."

"You'll see through with that, _won't you_ Tom?"

Her words sliced against him, once filled with love and adoration now full of hatred. It was a pity they bounced off him, not even coming close to hurting him. He had allowed her once to have one go at that and she had wasted it, pitifully.

Tom's eyes burned into the kneeling man in front of her, his dirty brown hair at other angles, his pleading look on his face that hid his true motives, the dried crusted blood on his chin.

"He does not care for you, not like me."

"No one cares about me," she responded. “Least of all you.”

"I do."

Her head turned, her eyes meeting his and for a single second he forgot about the rest of the group behind him. One of those Earth resonating moments where the shared past that had gone on between them flurried in front of them, reminding them and making them both weak. His heart beat an extra beat, her eyes widened as he stared into them.

He took a step forward, pressing the gun that was in his hand into hers.

"He wanted to hurt you."

Some part of him wanted her to end this man's life, to take and stop being a hypocrite. But another part of him knew better, she sought to daze and put to sleep, but never to kill. Each flick of her heel, each punch from her fist, all directed to a place to hurt and not end.

"You don't think I can do this," she muttered, her eyes moving to his gun. "You _think_ I'm too weak."

"Those words never left my mouth, _sweetheart_."

Her hand raised the gun, her thumb cocking the chamber as she rested her index at the trigger. Her eyes turned to meet his.

"I wish this was you," Hermione whispered, her eyes returning to the whimpering man on the floor as her finger clicked the trigger, the bullet zooming from the chamber, through the air, wind and rain not slowing it down.

Her eyes hardening, her smirk rising as the bullet connected with the man's skull and the sound of his body collapsing against the gravel. His eyes focused on her shot; if this was someone else he knew he'd applaud them. But the slap of his gun into his chest brought his focus to her.

"I hate you. I will _always_ hate you." 

His hand taking the gun as her eyes swiftly passed over his before she stalked of behind him, her heels making him flinch with each step.

"Someone clean this up," he shouted to the group. His feet still stuck to the place he stood. His jaw clenched as he saw her climb into his black car, slamming it behind her as the engine ignited and she drove from the car park.

* * *

**Draco Malfoy –** **_September 2001_ **

* * *

"I bought you a drink," his hand offering the whiskey tumbler as he attempted to smile sincerely.

"Thank you."

He stood for a moment and watched her with caution, expecting a fit of anger or tears before remembering she wasn't like other women.

"I can't be broken."

"I see that," he replied.

"He wants to break me, Tom. He wants to break me because then he can fix me."

Draco didn't know what to say. Mainly because the truth was far too hurtful to whisper and he had come to like her, care for her.

"He's not aware I'm already broken, he can't see that he already broke me," her words sounding off. "I never wanted this, or him."

"Then why –"

"— Do I stay?" Hermione asked dejected. Draco nodded half-heartedly, his hand running through his white blonde hair, moving it from his forehead. "Because you can never leave. He has you, _forever._ There is no escape. I have tried, failed. I was meant to be a singer, or an engineer, or even a cafe owner. But here I am, fondling men for information and knocking out people for money. I killed a man today, because I have to protect, I have to save him. I had to end someone's life to save another, that's what he wants me to know, that is what he wants me to see, but I won't, I can't —"

"— Who? Who are you saving?"

Her eyes full of fear and pain, her lip trembling as she raised the glass to her lips, downing the contents without a gasp, "Theo... he wants us… he wants us to leave."

* * *

**Draco Malfoy –** **_September 2001_ **

* * *

 

He hadn't fancied drinks, he was tired, annoyed even. He wanted a hot shower and to soak the blood off from his skin, he wanted to wash away the memories of anguished faced, just for one night. Just so he could sleep without relying on alcohol to numb his subconscious. The information from a week ago still swirled around his sub-conscious.

He hadn't seen her since, her bedroom door never opening to no one. Well, except him. Draco had seen him leave on two occasions and both times he felt this surge of anger at the sight.

Draco had heard the door of his boss's room open, his eyes catching sight in the mirror of her disheveled figure. Tears present on her cheeks, his hand tugging her back.

"Do you know what you do to me?" Draco heard Riddle say. "I _want_ to hate you."

"Then let me go," she sobbed her body attempting to pull from his hold. Draco clenched his eyes shut, ignoring the need to save her, to help her. " _Please_ … let me go."

She was not the one he was after. She wasn't his task, his mission.

"I can't," Riddle said as Draco opened his eyes and looked in the mirror at the end of the hall, it giving him a window into their conversation. "I love you —"

"— This isn't love _Tom._ This isn't even a healthy friendship, never mind much more," her hands were on her chest. "I was something you wanted, that you had to collect and have. But… I'm not an object."

"You're mine."

"I'm not something you collect, I'm a person."

"Oh, I know that," his hand reaching up to touch her cheek, caressing it slowly. "I'll never forget it."

"I want out Tom. I want... to be away from y —"

Draco's insides ran cold at the sound of the skin contact, as the boss shoved her into the wall, he could see the tense muscles on his bare back, his arms holding her tight as his fingers turned white. Her face turned away from him but the anguish was clear on her face.

"You don't listen do you?" His words were full of anger. "You never _fucking_ listen!"

Draco watched as her shoulder rose, her face turning back to him as he wished that she'd remain quiet.

"Maybe you can fuck a slut in our bed, maybe you can threaten me a bit more or why don't you fucking kill another member of my family again... maybe that will get my ears working!"'

And Draco felt his own back connect with the wall, the reason that she hadn't left, pieces of a puzzle he had never thought he'd get. The reason that she had stayed and Theo was so fiercely protective over her.

Tom Riddle _had_ killed Nott Snr. Tom Riddle had killed her father.

It wasn't an accident like he had pleaded.  
It wasn't an unfortunate situation, it was planned and it was on purpose.  
Tom Riddle killed to get to the top, to run the show, to become the Master of Mort, the Master of Death.

* * *

**Tom Riddle -** **_October 2001_ **

* * *

People made assumptions that he wasn't as aware of what went off around him like his predecessors had been.

But he saw all.

His gun was rotating on his finger, the many eyes of his team. _His family._ He stood up straight, running his left hand through his hair as he caught her frightened eyes. Her beautiful, frightened eyes.

"There, is a snake among us," he called out. His shoes sounding louder on the warehouse floor as silence remained throughout them all. "A snake, that wishes to destroy the equilibrium that we have built, that we own, that we love."

His dark eyes meeting hers at the word love, her lips parting ever so slightly as he did.

_'No one can have you,'_ he said in his mind, although he was sure she could hear him. Her eyes screaming her own response back. ' _I love you.'_

_'You love yourself,' her eyes said._

_'We can play this the hard way,"_ the corner of his lips rising.

"Come forward Malfoy," he called. "Do not be shy now," his gun rotating one full turn on his finger but he held the handle. "I won't bite."

The sound of the blonde's shoes on the floorboards gave him an immediate satisfaction. They would all know, the friend they had begun to trust and love. The man that had wormed his way in without any distinctive talent, the man that stunk of pigs.

"Do you want to tell them, or shall I?" He asked as he met the grey eyes.

Draco Malfoy, the man who had begged for a chance, for a job, the blonde who had wished to prove himself. The grey eyed fool who had wished to deceive him and take what was not his.

He watched closely as the blonde turned to look at her, attempting to catch her eyes, probably to apologise like the slobbering fool that he was. But her eyes did not meet his, they did not meet grey, they were fixed on darkness and they were fixed on him. The Boss, the leader, the one.

"Fine," Tom said loudly. "Malfoy, here, is an officer of the law. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Draco's face snapped to face his, panic and fear, it was running wild like a free horse in his eyes. Tom raised his arm, the gun pointing at him.

"Tom…" her voice whispered in the silence. "Don't."

His eyes moved to hers as he saw that she had broken rank from the others and she had moved from the constraints of her brother's arms.

"I… love _you_ , please? Don't," she begged. "Don't kill him…"

He wanted to believe her, he wanted desperately to be able too and he wanted to trust her. He wanted them to be the King and Queen of Mort. He wanted her to be singing in the Room of Requirement, he wanted to hold her close to him at night and feel alive like they once had.

"It's ok," the blonde said. The mix of grey and amber, fear on top of fear swirling together and it became apparent that he was too late.

She was not _his_ now and that he could not stand. 

It dawned on him rather quickly that this would not be the only time. That she made him weak, that he was weak as long as she was here.

Tom's hand steadied, pressing down on the trigger as the sound that came from it drowned out the screams and the protests around him. He could just hear the bullet, the sound it made as it travelled, the way it contorted as it bent through the air. Until it met skin. The sound of it parting as it connected to the bone beneath it, then the gasp that emerged from the lips of who it had met.

Then all of a sudden he heard everything else, the almighty scream from Theodore Nott, the thud as her head met the floor beneath her. He swore he even saw her eyes roll into the back of her head. Those beautiful, amber, wide eyes.

His shoulders relaxed, sighing as he turned to face the grey pair of eyes that were fixed on him, panic running through them as he gritted his teeth as he filled the blonde with fear.

"She was, and always will be, _mine_ ," Tom snarled.

* * *

  **Fin.**


End file.
